“I guess Cynthy was right.”
Mrs. Durgin's speech had been thickening more and more. She now said something that Jeff could not understand. He looked involuntarily at Cynthia.
“She says she thinks I was hasty with you,” the girl interpreted.
Jeff kept his eyes on hers, but he answered to his mother: “Not any more than I deserved. I hadn't any right to expect that she would stand it.”
Again the sick woman tried to say something. Jeff made out a few syllables, and, after his mother had repeated her words, he had to look to Cynthia for help.
“She wants to know if it's all right now.”
“What shall I say?” asked Jeff, huskily.
“Tell her the truth.”
“What is the truth?”
“That we haven't made it up.”